


You Were Always Right Here

by babbitly



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbitly/pseuds/babbitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Himuro left to go find himself and realizes he's left something very important behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Always Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> For MurahimuDay2014 uhhh the basis of this fic idea came from istehlurvs murahmu art and an hc we yelled at each other about on twitter the other day (this seems to be a reoccurring theme) but yeah, idk this is fluffy and it's 2 am im sorry

334 days.

Actually, if he’s factoring in the time difference, it’s 335.

335 days since he left Tokyo and got on that flight that took him back to America, back to his family, back to his home.

It didn’t feel much like home.

Himuro leans forward in the uncomfortable airplane seat and runs his hand through the back of his hair, curling his neck down, letting his chin hang right above his chest. He lets out a breath through his nose, his eyes focused on his hands that are clasped together tightly on the fold out tray before him.

335 days since he left his teammates.

335 days since he left his dream of a future in basketball behind.

Himuro swallows hard and straightens up in the seat, leaning his head back on the headrest and staring at the overhead cabin above him.

335 days since he last touched Atsushi.

Himuro feels his stomach roll and his throat tighten. The last time he’d seen Atsushi in person had been at the airport, 335 days ago. The last time he’d felt Atsushi’s hand in his own was when his fingers slipped from between his own as he walked into the security line, leaving him behind. And the last time he’d felt Atsushi’s lips on his were only moments after his fingers had withdrawn, when Atsushi had walked up to him in the security line, and grabbed his face between his hands, bending down in front of everyone in the airport without a care, and kissing him hard on the mouth.

Himuro feels the airplane rumble slightly around him and digs his nails into the cushion of the armrests. He still has five more hours of this flight left; he didn’t need to start thinking about Atsushi yet.

But he did. He’d never been able to _stop_ thinking about Atsushi.

* * *

“Why are you going back to America, Murochin,” Atsushi had said one night in Himuro’s dorm, lollipop hanging from his lips, his large hands rubbing long pathways underneath Himuro’s shirt as Himuro lay curled against his side. 

“I don’t know, ” Himuro had said into his shoulder. He breathed in Atsushi’s scent and then pushed himself up on to his elbow. He looked down at his boyfriend, scanning his eyes over his long face, noticing that little prick of worry in the furrow of his thin eyebrows. Himuro reached his hand up and pressed his thumb to the wrinkle there, smoothing it out.

“I think I need to find something,” he said, watching his thumb run over Atsushi’s soft skin.

“Murochin’s so weird,” Atsushi mumbled, crunching the lollipop in his mouth and tossing the stick over his shoulder. He brought his hand down to Himuro’s waist and traced his fingers over the exposed skin above his jeans.

Himuro smiled down at him, letting his eyes flick down to meet Atsushi’s lidded purple irises. He narrowed his eyes slightly and hitched his leg over Atsushi’s body, straddling him, and leaning over his face. Himuro felt Atsushi’s hand grip tighter around his hip.

“That’s not nice, Atsushi,” Himuro said as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the skin of Atsushi’s chest that was exposed by his V-neck shirt. A shirt Himuro had told him to wear mind you. He kissed a trail up to Atsushi’s ear before he whispered, “I wish you could come with me.”

“Or you could just stay here with me, Murochin.” he said back in a whisper, but Himuro could feel it radiate through his whole body.

* * *

“Do you want a drink, sir?” The stewardess asks Himuro, snapping him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the reality that he’s in: still cramped up in an airplane, the person to his right silent, his head lolled back in sleep.

“Um, yes,” Himuro says, glancing down at the cart she’s wheeling in front of her, “I’ll uhh, take a water if you don’t mind?” He smiles. 

“What about a snack, “she says, pouring the small bottle of water into an even smaller clear plastic cup, “peanuts, crackers, maybe some cookies?”

“Cookies,” Himuro says, almost like instinct, taking the glass from her as she turns back around and opens a drawer on the cart. Himuro hears the crinkling wrapper of the snack as she grabs it and hands the white package to him. He smiles again and thanks her before she moves on to the next isle.

Himuro puts the cookie package on his tray and stares at it. He didn’t actually want cookies, or anything really, but he couldn’t _not_ get them. He grabs his backpack from between his feet and tosses the package inside.

Himuro’s brought enough American candy and snacks back to last Atsushi at least a few weeks.  

* * *

“Have you found it yet, Murochin?” Atsushi asked one night, his nose centered in the phone screen in Himuro’s hands. Atsushi had picked up the bad habit of laying the phone on his face while their facetiming because he says it takes too much effort to hold the phone up. So Himuro has become much more familiar with Atsushi’s nose. It’s very well shaped.

“Atsushi let me see your face.” Himuro said, his stomach in his throat

“Murochinn” he whined as the screen shuffled around and then brought his face in to view. “I’m so tired.”

“Why’d you call me so late, then?” Himuro asked, watching Atsushi shove another piece of maibou into his mouth and then stare into the lens, his expression blank. 

“I miss you, Murochin,” he said, one of his eyebrows hitching slightly with his words, like he’s confused by Himuro’s question. “I want you to find whatever you’re looking for so you can come back.”

* * *

“We are now beginning our decent into Narita National Airport, please return to your seats and buckle your seatbelts,” a stewardess’ voice rang out over the speakers of the plane.

A jolt of fear, excitement, and maybe pure anticipation raced through Himuro’s body at the words. Himuro took a deep breath. He gets to see Atsushi soon. He’d be home soon. He’d be able to kis-

“Sir, I’ll take that cup from you, you need to lock your tray back in place,” the stewardess said, sticking her hand out for Himuro’s empty cup. He grabbed it off the tray and held it out to her, watching as his hand shook with the movement.

Himuro locked his tray in place and the stewardess turned to another passenger, and took another long breath, clenching his hands into fists to try and settle his nerves.

He gets to see Atsushi today.

* * *

“I’m coming back, Atsushi,” Himuro said one night, only hours after his father had called him and told him how proud he was that Himuro had made the Dean’s list two semesters in a row. He told him of all the internships he could take, of all the opportunities that he was setting himself up for, and all Himuro could think of was the fact that Atsushi was 8,000 miles away, and not here to talk about his shitty day.

He felt like a failure. He knew his parents were disappointed in him but he didn’t care. He could go to college in Tokyo, he could have a life in Tokyo, and he could have _Atsushi_ in Tokyo.

And he knows he needs to be his own person, knows that he can’t be dependent on Atsushi for his own happiness, but Atsushi is what makes him happy. He can find his happiness with Atsushi by his side, because it wouldn’t be anywhere near happy if he wasn’t there with him.

Himuro doesn’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that bullshit. He believes in hard work and dedication and earning what you want.

Himuro might not deserve Atsushi, but he’s earned him in everyway he can.

He’s trained hard in basketball to paly with him, he’s worked his ass off in his first year of college to get enough scholarship money to afford a university in Japan, and he’s traveled across the damn world to figure that out.

“I’m coming back.”

* * *

He knew rushing wasn’t going to solve anything. He still had to go through customs and that alone cold take hours, but he couldn’t help it when his stomach twisted painfully as he stood up in his seat and slung his backpack over his shoulder, watching as the people seated in front of him on the plane filed out calmly.

How were they so calm?

Himuro sure as hell wasn’t.

* * *

“Murochin, are you sure this is what you want.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to leave again?”

Himuro felt something break, like a crack had erupted through his chest, searing him with the pain he’d caused. Look at what he did. He’d never even taken a minute to think about Atsushi in all this, what if he didn’t need him to come back?

“Atsushi, I’m so sorry.” Himuro said, his eyes closed, he couldn’t even look at him on the screen of his computer anymore, scared of what he’d see “I shouldn’t have left and now you-“

“Murochin.”

“-probably despise me and think I’m terrible and disgusting.” Himuro could feel the tears coming to his eyes, so he tried to will them away and ignored them.

“I’m so sorry, Atsushi, this wasn’t fair to you, and I made you wait for me to figure myself-“

“Murochin.”

“-out and I can’t believe I did that, how could I do that to you?“ He could hear his voice raising, so he leaned his head forward on his hands, his elbows resting on his desk, as he slid his fingers into his hair, tugging slightly. How could he do this?

He heard a chip bag crinkle from Atsushi’s side of the call.

“Murochin, I love you, I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

Himuro’s breath caught in his throat. He opened his eyes and looked up to the computer screen. Atsushi’s purple hair was hanging down in his face, his eyes were narrowed, and his brow was wrinkled. He looked surprised that he had to say any of this.

Himuro felt a wave of relief wash over him, and felt the tears spill from his eyes. He didn’t deserve him, he absolutely did not.

“I love you, Atsushi.”

* * *

Himuro felt like his body could sense Atsushi. He felt this hands start to shake again, as he walked towards the escalator that separated the customs check from the luggage area. As he stepped on to the escalator, he felt his stomach flip, the feeling going all the way down to his knees. And then, as the escalator glided down the curve of the slope, allowing Himuro to see into the baggage claim area, he felt his heart speed up as he spotted that purple head of hair.

He had it all pulled back into a ponytail today, his tall frame adorned with a green t-shirt and jeans, and Himuro had never seen someone so beautiful in his whole life.

Himuro didn’t care that when he heard Atsushi’s name spill form his lips in a shocked whisper that everyone around him could hear.

He didn’t care when he almost ran to that corner of the baggage area where Atsushi stood, his eyes locked on those purple ones he’d been dying to see for so damn long.

He _didn’t care_ if everyone stared at him as he threw his bag off his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Atsushi, pressing his face into his shoulder, feeling his long, warm arms wrap around his back for the first time in 335 fucking days.

He curled his arm up and let his fingers slide into the back of Atsushi’s soft hair, holding him to his chest, letting his scent fill his nose. God he’s missed him.

Himuro pulls back slightly, needing to see Atsushi’s face in person and not on a damn screen, because he only ever wanted to see this face in person again.

Himuro raises himself up on to his toes, simultaneously pulling Atsushi’s head closer to his own, and smiles before pressing his lips to Atsushi’s. Their kiss is sweet, literally, because that lingering taste of sugar that Atsushi carries with him is still there. Himuro sucks in a breath through his nose and slides his tongue over Atsushi’s lips once, tasting him, before he feels Atsushi pull back this time, but only slightly.

“Did you find it, Murochin?” Atsushi says, and Himuro can feel the words against his lips, fell Atsushi’s arms, warm and strong around him, and god Himuro’s missed this. He’s missed it so damn much.

Himuro lets out a harsh laugh through his nose, pushes his face away from Atsushi’s, smiles, and brings his hands up to either side of Atsushi’s face. He stares at him, letting his eyes roam across the face he’d thought about every single day for the last 335 days. “I’d always had it, Atsushi,” Himuro says, rubbing his thumbs over Atsushi’s prominent cheekbones. Himuro leans in, pressing his lips to Atsushi’s mouth again, “I didn’t need to go anywhere to find it. You were always right here.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> here's the art please look at it it's so beautiful:  
> http://istehlurvz.tumblr.com/post/97122836514/gross-kissy-noises-and-sobbing


End file.
